Clyde scrambles easily through the gap. If he’d been a fully grown Plood, and not misshapen, I’m not sure he would have made it through.
“We saw a Plood a few days ago,” Sage says as we keep going through the cave, which turns into a canyon and then to a flat hill. “And Beth made the message after he made some images appear in her mind. We had no idea if it would work, or that it would just be days before you’d be here. This is Crater Valley. Also called ‘this Effing Crater’ or ‘the Prison’.”
“‘Crater Valley’ works,” I tell her. Because it’s plainly a crater, either from a volcano or an ancient meteorite strike. We’ve emerged about halfway up the round side wall, and only the bottom of the crater is overgrown with vegetation. The walls are probably too steep to support that, and the rock is too bare for even a Xren jungle to grow from, gray and hard and mostly smooth.
“Nobody can get in,” Sage says as she starts making her way down the steep cliff. “Except small animals and those damn pterodactyls. But we don’t see them a lot, so it’s pretty safe down here.”
The crater must be a mile across, and the jungle at the bottom looks denser right in the middle than closer to the perimeter. I suppose that’s because the sun will usually beat straight down on that part, while the edges of the crater will often be in shadow.
“There’s just five of us,” Sage says and stops. “And the jungle has a lot of fruit and berries. But it’s not enough. For the past couple of years we’ve been really good about not picking more than we absolutely need, and we divided the crater into zones and only pick from one zone per twenty days. Then we go on to the next. But even then, it’s not enough. Even if we hunt those turkey-like pig things. It’s just not enough.”
I can see where it’s going. “So you had to go outside to hunt and gather. And then the cavemen discovered you.”
She sighs. “There was just the one caveman. But one is enough. There are four tribes around us, we think. And now they all know we exist. We try to not go out that much, but at some point they must realize that we live in the crater.”
“You sure they haven’t figured that out already?” I ask carefully as we keep walking down the side of the crater.
“We’re actually pretty sure they have. They’ve just not found the entrance yet. And if they find it, they can’t pass without doing some serious hacking of that rock.”
“That’s how you know they haven’t found the entrance,” I ponder. “Because if they had, you would hear them hacking away the rock. They would do it night and day in a frenzy if they thought there were women on the other side.”
We pass the top of the tallest trees in the crater. This jungle is not like the one outside - there’s no giant canopy of treetops with darkness and bushes under them. There’s maybe a hundred of those trees in total, but below them there’s room for smaller trees and bushes and a dense undergrowth that is rare to see in the jungle I come from.
“Looks fertile,” I comment as we carefully slide down a steep section of rock.
“It’s fertile, and water’s no problem,” Sage says. “But even if we don’t exactly gorge ourselves on fruit and berries, we’ve been running on empty for a while.”
I believe it. Sage has a bony look to her, the skin on her face stretched taut over her cheeks.
“I used to live like that, too,” I tell her. “For years. The Borok tribe has been a big relief in that sense.”
“M-hm.”
The air gets denser and warmer as we descend to the floor of the crater. The ground is as soft and springy as the jungle around it, and I’m sure the crater must have been here for centuries.
Before I know it, I’m standing in front of a hut. It’s better made than the bonfire-like things that Vyrathion heaped together, but not by much.
There’s nobody there, but Sage raps her stick on a hollow log, making three sharp bangs.
Four girls come walking into the little clearing from different directions, all with primitive tools in their hands.
I have to struggle to stop my hands going to my mouth in sympathy. These are some skinny girls, clearly malnourished. Their clothes are rags and their hair absolute rat’s nests.
The first one comes in close. “Are you the Plood boss?”
“Yes,” I reply. This is not the time for correcting details. “I’m Morgan. I live in the Borok tribe with several other girls. I got your message.” I show them the piece of bark.
“Okay,” she says. “I’m Beth. This is Quinn, Rosa and Abigail.”
I just nod. This is also not the time for handshakes and formal introductions. “I got your message.” I hold up the piece of bark. “Also, did one of you drop this?” I show them the broken comb.
Abigail’s eyes widen. “Where did you find that? It’s mine!”
I hand it to her. “The Plood found it and gave it to us… to me. That’s how I figured out you existed in the first place.”
Abigail carefully blows on the comb. “I think I lost it one time I was out gathering fruit. Thanks.”
I try to smile, but it just won’t come. “If you want, I can take you chicas back to the Borok tribe. It’s far, but…” I can’t think of anybuts. “It’s far,” I repeat lamely.
